


An Unexpected (But Not Unwelcome) Rendevous

by EclipseAtDusk42



Category: Transformers (IDW 2019), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Casual Sex, Drunk Sex, F/F, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Flamewar/Shadow Striker - Freeform, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseAtDusk42/pseuds/EclipseAtDusk42
Summary: A night off in the Rise's base, and Shadow Striker finds out Flamewar's never interfaced with another mech before - and she takes it upon herself to set that straight.
Relationships: Flamewar/Shadow Striker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Flamewar Finds Out What She's Been Missing

The shock at what had just hit her audials nearly pulled Shadow Striker out of her overcharged state. She stared for a moment at the small, garishly painted mech in front of her, jaw open wide.  
  
“Hello, uh, Flamewar to Shadow Striker, you there dipshit? What? Did my speech synth glitch again?” Flamewar managed to slur out through a lagging vocalizer, thanks to one too many glasses of engex. “All I said was tha-”

Shadow Striker threw her arms up in frustration, snapping “I know what you said!” at the clearly incredibly overcharged little 2-wheeler in front of her. “I just refuse to believe that you, Flamewar, Innuendo Extraordinaire, and one of the sluttiest acting ‘bots I know, have never interfaced with someone before.” She put down her glass, and leaned forward in her seat, elbows resting on knees, trying to get a closer look at Flamewar. “And you’re not exactly like, a new forge either, I know for a fact you’ve been on this rock for a while. What gives?”

Flamewar’s optics refreshed, out of sync with each other, as she took in what had been asked. “I-” A pause, as she realized she had no idea where to start. “I mean like, I’ve got servos, I’ve got toys - what could another mech do that I can’t? Other than crush me under their weight or something like that, who needs that?” Her vocalizer lagged again on the last word, drawing it out twice as long as it needed to be. “I overload myself just fine, I know how I like my spike and valve touched, and other mechs SUCK to talk to.” Shadow Striker scoffed “Other than you, aftport. I dunno it just - always seemed like a hassle”  
  
Sitting up straighter in her seat, Shadow Striker ran a servo down her face, slowly cycling her vents with her optics offlined. She onlined them again, staring down a very confused looking Flamewar in front of her. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but - do you want to try fragging? Just once, no strings attached, just to see what it’s like? If you want.” It wasn’t even a microsecond after she stopped speaking that she heard the quiet, distinct sound of a panel popping. There was Flamewar, sitting in front of her, legs spread, her array out fully on display. “You have got to be fragging kidding me…”

“Prove me wrong! See what you can do that’s better than what I can do!” Flamewar taunted. Her spike slowly pressurized, and she slowly wrapped her servos around it, transfluid already beading slightly at the tip, lubricant already showing signs of spilling out of her valve. “I know exactly what I need to get myself off, what makes you think you can overload me better?” She leaned back further in her seat, spreading her legs wide and sticking out her glossa at the bigger, frustrated mech in front of her. She knew Shadow Striker couldn’t back down from a challenge, and she hated being taunted. Flamewar was curious to see where this’d go, at the very least.

A rumble rose up inside Shadow Striker, her engine revving up and cooling fans clicking on as she realized _Oh no, I’m enjoying this._ She felt her own array begin warming up, the pressure of her spike building behind her panel, her valve beginning to self-lubricate and bear down, as if jumping at the thought of having a spike inside of it. She shot up out of her seat, and stalked over to Flamewar. She stared down for a moment at the smaller mech, laying there, inviting, taunting, just waiting for someone to frag her. She narrowed her optics, and thought it over a moment. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive you want this?” She braced her arms on either side of Flamewar’s head, leaning in close to one audial fin. “Because I wouldn’t want to ruin your private fun time for you,” she taunted back, her vocalizer practically at a growl, “You can back out any time, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Flamewar simply responded by licking the side of Shadow Striker’s helm, and giggling before clumsily palming at the bigger mech’s panel. Shadow Striker’s panel transformed away with a short, sharp CLICK, and she felt immediate relief as her spike fully pressurized unbound, and the cool night air hit the outside of her valve. “Get ready to have your processor blown, you little glitch.”

Flamewar simply stuck out her glossa again in response. A servo snapped up, and Flamewar found herself unable to return her glossa to her mouth. “You keep that in your mouth, you little fragger - or else you’re putting it to work, do you understand me?” the bigger mech growled. Slowly, careful not to pull too hard on her glossa, Flamewar nodded while peering up at Shadow Striker, looming over her not dissimilarly to how Six Shot often did while reprimanding her for her most recent slipup. Shadow Striker released her glossa, and Flamewar took in the sight above her.

“Ya know, I’ve always admired your frame a bit from afar, Shadow,” Flamewar began running one servo up and down Shadow Striker’s side. “But I never thought I’d get this close. It’s almost li-” She suddenly found her arms pinned by the wrists above her helm, over the back of the chair.  
  
“We’ll start with two rules for now. One, you don’t get to touch yourself. Only I do that. And two-” Shadow Striker levelled optics with Flamewar “You don’t get to touch me. Touch me again, and I’ll chuck you out into the middle of the memorial crater, tied up, with a sign that says ‘I Killed Brainstorm,’ got it?” Flamewar could only muster a small nod in response. “Glad we have an understanding. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride, you slagheap.”

Shadow Striker reached down, and began gently stroking Flamewar’s spike, teasing the tip with her thumb - she could already feel Flamewar squirming under her touch. _Seems this’ll be easier than I thought,_ she mused internally, and she couldn’t help but let a small smirk creep into her otherwise stern expression. “Oh what’s that Flamewar? I thought nobody else would be good at getting you off? Or were you all talk and no follow-through, just like always?”  
  
Struggling to keep her composure, Flamewar managed to bite out “Shut it, fragger. It’s just been a while since I’ve overloaded so I’m all - pent up.” A burst of static interspersed itself into her words, betraying what Shadow Striker could already tell was a flimsy excuse. “I bet it’ll still take you a good long while to get me to overload tho, you old scrapheap. When was the last time you fra-AH!!” She suddenly tossed her helm back as she felt a sudden weight on her hips, and a pressure she’d never felt on her spike. Her optics offlined for a moment, and when she looked down as they onlined, Shadow Striker had one servo bracing herself on the arm of the chair, and was now fully straddling her. “Did you just-?”

“Not the worst spike I’ve ridden before, so you at least have that going for you, you brat,” Shadow Striker sneered. Flamewar’s only response was to stifle a groaning moan, and scoff back. Shadow Striker leaned in close, lip plating brushing up against the other mech’s, “Though part of me is almost honored to be the first valve that’s touched it.” She pressed her mouth to Flamewar’s, her glossa sliding across lip plating, forcing its way into her mouth. Their glossas intertwined for a moment as Shadow Striker squeezed her valve tight around the spike inside, which coaxed a shudder and a moan out of the mech she still had pinned by the wrists to the chair. The nice moment was quickly ruined by a sharp pain on her glossa, however, and as she jerked her helm back, it hit her what had happened. “Did you just fragging bite me?” she asked in disbelief. Flamewar simply smirked a little in response. Her vents were starting to come quicker though, and Shadow Striker could hear that her cooling fans had whirred to life to deal with the excess heat, building in her system. “Alright you sack of tin, you’re in for it now. You’ll never look at your own servoes the same again” she cackled.

Shadow Striker grabbed Flamewar’s face with her servo that’d been holding her up, and began aggressively bouncing against her hips - lubricant was beginning to slick their thigh armor, scuffs in both their paintjobs showing first signs of themselves. She watched as Flamewar’s optics went wide and glitched as the first waves of sensation washed over them, very clearly already near overload. Her vocalizer lagged and shot out bursts of static as she attempted to moan out Shadow Striker’s name. Shadow Striker slowed down for a moment and let up, loosening the squeeze of her calipers on the small spike currently buried deep in her valve. Flamewar took a ragged in-vent, and let her helm fall back, her body limp for a moment, before levelling optics with Shadow Striker.

A few more ragged invents, and Flamewar slurred out “That felt, impressive, I’ll give ya that…” A few more vent cycles, her falling limp to one side as she paused. “But I still haven’t even overloaded yet, and you’re done, you old bucket of bolts?” She struggled against Shadow Striker’s hand that pinned her down, for good measure, as if to just infuriate Shadow Striker more. A grin crept across her face, as if to say *Prove me wrong*

“Oh, I’m just getting started, don’t you worry about that you little scraplet,” Shadow Striker squeezed hard and slammed down onto Flamewar’s spike, and Flamewar’s back arched drastically, her vocalizer spitting squeaks of static, any attempt at coherent words completely out the window. As she pulled back up, Shadow Striker loosened her grip, only to bear down hard, any time she sank Flamewar’s spike deep inside her valve again. The sudden, drastic shifts in sensation were too much for Flamewar to handle, and Shadow Striker watched as she tipped over the edge into an intense overload, her body tensing so much that she managed to pull one wrist out of the hold they were in. Flamewar’s optics offlined, the static from her vocalizer reduced to a strangled hiss, as her back struts strained against her system telling them to curve as much as possible. Shadow Striker felt the pulse of a release of transfluid into her valve, and felt the satisfaction of a job well done. “See what I told you, sparkling? Fragging another mech is way more interesting than just playing “Self-maintenance” in your berth or the washracks alone. And like I said, I’m just getting started-” She let go of Flamewar’s other wrist, and slowly lifted herself off the spike. Flamewar convulsed again as the cold air hit her, a small spurt of transfluid escaping the tip of her spike, before running down it to mingle with Shadowstriker’s lubricant. Shadowstriker wrapped her digits around her spike, and began gently stroking it, her other servo pushing both of Flamewar’s knees to one side, causing her hips to pivot on the chair slightly. Flamewar merely flipped the bird in response, head lolling to one side. “Stand up, bend over - you ready for round two, you two wheeled twerp?”  
  
Flamewar could only fix Shadow Striker with a perplexed stare, one ocular ridge raised in disbelief. A pause built between them, filled with nothing but the whir of cooling fans, the slight hiss of Flamewar’s depressurizing spike, and the sound of other activity in the base. Just as it the near-silence was beginning to get Uncomfortable, Flamewar shrieked out, all signs of vocal glitches gone:  
  
 ** _“WHAT THE FRAG DO YOU MEAN,_** ** _ROUND 2?!?!?!?”_**


	2. Do It Again, But With Intensity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flamewar was always convinced before tonight that once a mech overloaded, they were done interfacing. Shadow Striker's prepared to show her how wrong she is

As the echoes of Flamewar’s shouts bounced around and down the halls of the Rise base, she simply stared back incredulously at Shadow Striker, who still just stood in front of there, digits of one servo wrapped around her spike, the biolights practically blinding as she was clearly very ready to keep going. Shadow Striker slowly brought her free servo to her hip, still self-servicing her spike with the other, and slowly a grin crept onto her face. “What, you all spent after just one overload? You’re always running off at the mouth and zooming around the base in your alt-mode, knocking over mini-cons and larger bots, and god you never shut up sometimes. I would have thought that you’d have a bit more in you than that” She raised an optic ridge quizzically, making sure she’d come across as mocking as possible.

Flamewar grumbled and sat up, feeling lubrication and transfluid that had run down her panelling smear across the seat and down her legs. She in-vented for a moment to collect herself, and then fixed Shadow Striker with a mocking look of her own. “It’s not that I think I couldn’t do it,” she proclaimed haughtily, “It’s that I’m surprised such a beat up, rustbucket looking bolthead like you could keep going after the workout your pistons got there. I’m easily up for round 2!!” She slowly and casually crossed her legs, to hide her now fully depressurized spike, as if to pretend it didn’t exist for a moment.

All Shadow Striker could muster back was a blank flat stare. This little mech was full of slag and she knew it, but at this point it was a challenge. How much would it take to get her to back down? Shadow Striker had a pretty good idea, and was determined to find out. “Oh I haven’t even overloaded yet, so believe me - even if I was a one-round wonder, I could keep going as long as I wanted. Because unlike an inexperienced little fragger like yourself, Flamewar,” She slowly approached to loom over the small black mech once again “I can control myself to stop an oncoming overload, instead of just letting loose as soon as someone touches me a little intimately, like you.” She grabbed Flamewar’s helm again, thumb and forefinger squeezing her cheeks together, her mouth forming a small pout thanks to the pressure. “But I’m sure with some time and practice I could turn you into an impressive little ‘facing powerhouse. I’m having quite a lot of fun with you as is, though…” Flamewar simply responded with, yet again, sticking her glossa out at the larger mech. Shadowstriker rolled her optics and stood up straight. “Alright, turn around, bend over. I’m gonna show you what a real frag is like, and then we’ll see what that vocalizer of yours has left to say when I’m through with you”

“That’s assuming you’ve not fallen into recharge after you’re done though, you old glitch. Careful not to break a ribbon cable trying to get into some weird position!” Flamewar taunted back, while slowly standing up and getting in Shadow Striker’s face. “I can practically hear Nickel now in the medbay. ‘Oh Shadow Striker, didn’t I tell you you’re too old and beat up to interface that aggressively? You can do 20 minutes of quiet missionary but that’s it, you old scrapheap!’ That’d be a fun thing to explain to Six Shot, too, how you can’t go on a mission because you busted a strut fraggin!” A cackle escaped Flamewar’s vocalizer, but was cut short when she realized she was being bodily spun 180 degrees and then bent over at the hips. “Oh, pissy old steam engine takes what she wants, huh?”  
  
A growl emanated from Shadow Striker’s vocalizer. “Third rule: you shut the frag up, or so help me Solus Prime, I’ll rip out your vocalizer and shove it up your aftport. Got that?” By then she had Flamewar bent over the chair, legs slightly spread, and wrists pinned again, this time crossed across the small of her back. Flamewar simply shrugged and offline her optics, a smug look on her face as she faced her helm forward again. As Shadow Striker braced one servo on the smaller mech’s hip, she felt a brush against her now aching spike. Flamewar had shifted backwards slightly, and was now grinding her valve against the larger mech’s spike. Shadow Striker leaned into it in response, shoving the smaller mech’s face deeper into the seat. “Oh you’re in for it now. You thought your own hands and toys were useless before, just you wait until I’m through with you.” Shadow Striker could swear she heard a muffled giggle coming from Flamewar.

Slowly, teasingly at first, she ran a finger up and down the length of Flamewar’s valve folds, enjoying as she felt shudders from the mech pressed against her. First one digit slowly sank in, gently working the calipers open, then a second. The tightness was unsurprisingly, rather intense at first, given the overall disuse they seemed to have due to Flamewar’s lack of experience, but Shadow Striker was prepared to fix that. Keeping her grip on her wrists, Shadow Striker slid a third digit in, and Flamewar’s backstruts arched, her chest and head leaving the chair’s surface for a moment, a static-laden moan escaping her vocalizer. “You are just too easy, you know that, Flamewar?” Shadow Striker teased. A muffled “Shut it” was all she got in response, before she felt the pressure of Flamewar’s valve bear down on her digits. She shifted tactics, removing a digit, and then pulling upwards inside of Flamewar’s valve with her middle two digits, just enough to cause a good stretch. She was rewarded with more squeaky moans and static-laced curses from the once-indignant mech below her. She then slid a third digit back in, intensifying the stretch she was giving her, while leaning more weight onto the servo that was pinning Flamewar’s wrists at the small of her back. Shadow Striker leaned down close to Flamewar’s audials, and at a nearly indiscernible volume, bit out “I bet you’re not even gonna be able to walk yourself to the washracks after I’m through with you.”

Flamewar turned her helm to face Shadow Striker, and the signs of processor-clouding pleasure were clearly written on her face. Her optics were hazy, her facial plating flushed thanks to increased energon circulation, and she was venting hard. The mere sight of that caused Shadow Striker’s cooling fans to click on, but she kept her demeanour cool. She didn’t dare let Flamewar know she was getting to her, or she’d never live it down. Instead she brought her helm in close again for another kiss, this one more intense than the first. Shadow Striker was on the offensive, prepared for any more surprise bites, her own dentae latching onto Flamewar’s lower lip plating, as she felt the smaller mech’s glossa running over her mouth. Their mouths, in tandem, opened wider, their glossas twining together and probing around lips, dentae. Shadow Striker straightened back to a standing position, removing her digits from Flamewar’s valve, a small whimper the only response she got at first. As she repositioned herself, she carefully nudged Flamewar’s legs wider apart, to get her valve at just the right level. She caught a glimpse of Flamewar’s array, her spike half-pressurized again and dripping transfluid, the mesh of her external valve folds slick with lubricant, running down her panels and dripping onto the floor. She made sure to save a snapshot of that moment for later. She used her free servo to guide her spike to its eagerly awaiting target.  
  
A sharp yelp was all Flamewar could get out, before a shudder overcame her and made her curl in on herself, shaking with the stimulation. Slowly, Shadow Striker began thrusting in and out of Flamewar, the slick sounds of mesh and metal sliding across each other the only sound filling the room they were in. A grin curled across Shadow Striker’s face, a low chuckle growing deep in her vocalizer. “You’re so much talk, Flamewar, and yet here I am, an old, what did you say - scrap heap? Pissy old steam engine? And I have you melting in my servos with minimal effort. You should see what it takes to get Strika where you are now. You’re a walk in the park.” Flamewar clenched her valve in response right as Shadow Striker thrust her spike in, forcing her to pause for a moment to collect herself. “That’s how we’re gonna play it, huh? Well two can play at that game.” And with that, she picked up pace, the sound of armor plating clattering together filling the room, along with the sounds of one very charged up mech. Long bursts of static interspersed with high moans filled the air, much to Shadow Striker’s satisfaction. She let go of Flamewar’s wrists, which flopped down to the chair for a moment before she braced herself with her servos, lifting off the seat. Shadow Striker leaned in close, her spike still hilted in the smaller mech, and growled a simple command: “Hold on tight, glitch.”   
  
Shadow Striker moved quickly, her arms curling up under Flamewar’s knees, her servos latching hard onto her shoulders. She aggressively pounded her deep into the mech below her a few more times for good measure, before standing up straight, still holding onto Flamewar, who yelped in surprise. Shadow Striker felt her back struts strain with the effort, but the sounds of shock that came from Flamewar made the effort worth it. She now stood in front of the chair they had been fragging on, Flamewar contorted in Shadow Striker’s arms and perched on her spike, her own spike dangling half-limp and still leaking slightly. Shadow Striker took a moment to compose herself, when the quiet was interrupted by snark from the mech she was holding to her chest.   
  
“Careful not to pop a strut or a chain or something, you jalopy, that’d be embarrassing to expla-AH!” Flamewar was cut short as Shadow Striker thrust in deep yet again, the changed angle causing her spike to aim directly at Flamewar’s deepest interior node. A small whimper was all she could muster after that, while Shadow Striker simply sunk her dentae into the cabling at Flamewar’s neck, and began aggressively and erratically thrusting in and out of her. The two-wheeler’s optics went wide and bright, before they were sucking so much power her processor offlined them to reset. Her vocalizer had become reduced to whimpers between long bursts of static, charge jumping between small gaps between protoform and plating. Shadow Striker merely doubled down, thrusting harder and faster. The two mechs reached overload at the same time, pleasure blasting through their respective systems, Shadow Striker silently, Flamewar with great volume and intensity. Lubricant flowed in rivulets down their plating, pooling slightly on the floor beneath Shadow Striker’s pedes. The sound of gently creaking plating and whirring cooling fans filled the room, the only sound for a moment - two moments. 

Then, without warning, Flamewar felt herself falling to the seat in front of her, unceremoniously released as she was from Shadow Striker’s grip. The larger mech’s spike slid out of the smaller’s valve with a sudden slurping sound, and Flamewar crashed unceremoniously in a lump of armor plating and limbs to the chair below. She huffed an indignant ex-vent, and righted herself in the seat, and stared in disbelief in the mech towering over her. She put her servos to her helm suddenly, then splayed them out to the sides while exclaiming:  
  
“SOLUS FORGED, THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!!!! Okay clearly I HAVE been missing out and I need to go frag more mechs like NOW cuz slag yeah being chucked around like that felt GREAT and now I need it more and maybe if I overload on someone’s he-”   
  
“Wait, you liked me throwing you around and treating you rough like that?” Shadow Striker said, for the second time that night unable to believe the signal that just hit her audials. “You, you you youyou - okay so all that obnoxious bullshit behaviour, was that just to egg me on? You liked me doing that?” Flamewar simply responded with a tight grin and a quick nod, her optics lit up with pure glee. Shadow Striker leaned back a moment, her array still dripping onto the floor, and crossed her arms. “Huh. Well damn me to The Pit. Sure fraggin worked, I’ll give you that, you scraplet. And honestly?” She leaned in close, optics level, lip plating near touching. “I had a good time. What do you say we make this a regular thing?” She barely had time to finish speaking before Flamewar had her arms wrapped around her, and was kissing her deeply.

Flamewar pulled away with a deep in-vent, before exclaiming “Primus yes, I’m about to fall into recharge because of those overloads, but you’d better make that happen again tomorrow night. I’ll sneak you a little extra energon, steal it from one of the new idiots or something. Deal?”

A smirk crossed Shadow Striker’s face. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, Chapter 2! Only one more to go for this fic before it starts branching out more, tho that one may be a little while. It's gonna require some research on my part, but I'm excited nonetheless!
> 
> Critiques and suggestions always welcome, I'm incredibly new to this, but I'm so far loving the responses to chapter 1!

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO - First attempt at a fic after screaming with @autothots and @unscheming on twitter about how much we love Flamewar and how she's truly just Solus Prime's gift to cybertronian women. I decided to split up this fic into three chapters just because I HAD to get this out into The World. 
> 
> The eventual goal? A giant femslash collaborative world of Flamewar just sleeping her way across the planet, picking up Kink after Kink as she goes.


End file.
